Part 6 (2/2)

Beebo looked at Laura with the blood running all over her and there was grief on her face. ”He was just a dog,” she moaned. ”Such a little dog. There was nothing queer about him! ... And he could talk, too.” She almost shouted it and Laura waited, trembling, for her to move.

”He was so sweet, Laura,” she said with tears coursing down her face. ”You never liked him much, but he was such a good dog.”

”I loved him, Beebo, he was a part of your life,” Laura protested anxiously.

But Beebo ignored it. It was half a lie, spoken in affection, but still a lie. ”I could always talk to him and it seemed as if he understood,” Beebo said. ”I know you thought I was crazy. But there were times when I had to talk to somebody and there wasn't anybody. Only Nix. I had him for seven years ... since he was six weeks old.” And she clutched him to her and wept and Laura looked at her, all bloodied and heart-broken, and thought, She feels worse about the dog than about herself.

”Now that he's gone ... at least we'll have one less thing to fight about.” Beebo looked very pale and odd. ”Won't we, baby?” she said.

”II guess so,” Laura said. She's cracked! she thought. She went into the living room then, leaving Beebo alone for a few minutes, and called Jack. He was alone.

”Jack, I don't know how to tell you. Ithey raped Beebo.” Her voice was low and shaky.

Jack wasn't sure whether she was kidding or not. He wasn't even sure he heard her right. ”Lucky b.i.t.c.h,” he said. ”I wish they'd rape me instead. I'm never in the right place at the right time.”

”I'm serious, Jack.”

And when he heard the catch in her throat he believed her. ”Who raped her, sweetheart?” he said, and the levity was dead gone from him.

”She doesn't know. Some hoods. G.o.d knows who they were.

”Did you call a doctor?”

”She won't let me!” Laura's voice rose with indignation. ”Of all the nonsense I ever heard in my life! She's afraid the doctor will find out she's a female. I think we're all going crazy” But she felt Beebo's hand then taking the phone from her, and she surrendered it without arguing and went to the couch and collapsed.

”Jack?” Beebo said. ”I'm all right. It looks worse than it really is. I'll live.” The front of her was sticky with Nix's blood.

”You talk like it happens all the time,” Jack said with scolding sympathy. ”Like getting your teeth drilled, or something.”

Beebo smiled wryly. ”How is it you always know just what to say to a girl, Jackson? Make her feel real swell?”

”How is it that you're such a G.o.ddam prude you won't let a doctor examine you? The doctor doesn't give a d.a.m.n what s.e.x you are.”

”They killed Nix.” She threw it at him unexpectedly, silencing him about the doctor. And she described it with such detail that Laura didn't want to listen. She got up and went into the bedroom to escape the conversation.

Beebo joined Laura on the bed ten minutes later, wearing her men's cotton pajamas. Laura was too tired and weak to move. Beebo undressed her where she lay on the bed and dragged her under the 'covers naked.

”I don't know what to do with Nix,” she said. ”I'll have to figure something out in the morning.”

They lay in each other's arms, absorbed in their own thoughts. Laura's mind was a potpourri of vivid impressions. She would never forget the b.l.o.o.d.y little dog, nor the fragrant skin of the Indian dancer, nor Beebo's misery, nor those sinfully sweet kisses she stole from Tris....

”Jack's coming over tomorrow,” Beebo said in her ear.

”Good.”

”Why 'good'?”

”h.e.l.l help us. He'll make you see a doctor and he'll do something about Nix. I don't know, I just feel better with him around.”

”If I didn't know for G.o.ddam sure how gay you are, baby, I'd hate that guy.”

Laura had to laugh. ”Beebo, if you get jealous of Jack I'll send you to a head shrinker.”

”Okay, okay, I know it's nuts. But you talk about him all the time.”

”I'm very fond of Jack. You know that. He brought us together, darling.” And she said it so gently that Beebo clasped her tighter and was rea.s.sured.

Laura slept, finally. But Beebo could not. She spent the night with her arms around Laura, taking her only comfort in Laura's nearness and the sudden apparent return of her affection.

Jack came at eight-thirty. It was a Sat.u.r.day morning and he had the day to spend. With his usual detachment he wrapped Nix up while Beebo was dressing. He carted him down the stairs in a garbage pail and left him for the morning pickup in a trash bin, well hidden in a shroud of papers. When Beebo came into the kitchen a few minutes later he just said, ”He's gone. Don't ask me about it, Beebo. It's all .over.” He found it almost as hard to talk about as she did.

”d.a.m.n you, Jack,” Beebo said feebly. But she was glad he had done it for her. She felt lousy. All the excitement and anger that had sustained her the night before were gone, leaving a la.s.situde and nausea that swept over her in waves. Laura made her go back to bed and fed her breakfast from a tray.

”Don't leave me, baby,” Beebo begged and Laura promised to stay near by. But as soon as Beebo had swallowed a little food and kept it down, she fell asleep, and Jack pulled Laura to her feet and dragged her, whispering protests, into the kitchen.

”How can I talk to you in there?” he demanded and fixed them both some coffee.

Laura drank in silence, listening to his rambling talk with one ear, gratefully. She thought of Tris and wondered whether to confess to Jack about the dancer or keep it a secret. She knew he wouldn't like it.

”Beebo acted kind of crazy last night,” Laura said. ”I think she felt worse about Nix than about herself.”

”No doubt she did. But pretty soon she'll feel her own aches and pains. Maybe I can find her another hound somewhere. I just hope to G.o.d she doesn't use this thing to make a prisoner of you, Mother.”

”A prisoner?”

”She was getting pretty desperate about you, you know. I think that has a lot to do with all the drinking.”

Laura realised then that he didn't put a shot of booze in his coffee. ”You're still on the wagon!” she said.

He swirled his coffee reflectively. ”I remember,” he said, ”when Terry was giving me the works a few months back. I nearly drank myself to extinction. Beebo's not above trying it herself.”

”Oh, G.o.d, that was awful!” Laura said, remembering Terry.

Terry had been enough to drive a strong man mad. If he had been nasty about it Jack could have stood it better. He could have preserved his self-respect and he might have had the strength to kick Terry out sooner than he did. But Terry was nice. He was delightful and cooperative. He was unfaithful, he was taking every cent Jack made as Jack made it, and he was hardly ever home.

But Jack was in love with him; angrily in love with the wrong person, sticking to a doomed attachment as if every new shock and every unexpected pain only strengthened his need for the boy.

Jack knew it was hopeless. He knew it was draining his strength and making a coward of him. In his mind the whole sad farce of the thing was perfectly clear. But he acted on his emotions in spite of himself, and as long as Terry loved him he couldn't let him go.

Curiously enough, Terry did love him. Jack was home base to him; Jack was security. Jack paid the bills and bolstered him when he was low, and no matter how rough and rotten the rest of the world might get, good old Jack was always there, always the same.

But the end had to come. There was never enough money, there was never enough understanding, there was never enough of the right kind of love. It took just one sharp explosion of acid resentment one night, when Jack caught Terry cheating after two years of bitter suspicions, to blow them apart. It was almost too painful to think about afterwards.

It was over now, of course. Terry was gone. But the ache for him and the loneliness, even the desire to be tormented remained.

”You never heard from Terry, did you?” Laura asked.

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